


Stitches

by ephemeralstark



Series: Peter gets hurt/sick [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Blood and Injury, Gen, Hurt Peter Parker, Injury, Peter Parker Whump, Peter Parker is a Mess, Peter is a Little Shit, Protective Tony Stark, Stitches, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Tony Stark Has A Heart
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-18
Updated: 2020-05-18
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:34:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24250681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ephemeralstark/pseuds/ephemeralstark
Summary: “I got sliced.” Peter admitted.“Sliced?”“With a knife.”“You were stabbed.” Mr. Stark stated, instantly moving forward to look at the wound that Peter was shielding with his hand.“Not stabbed, there was no stabby motion, it was a slice.” Peter reiterated. “Definitely a slice.”-Or, it's 2am and Peter needs stitches.
Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Series: Peter gets hurt/sick [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1750486
Comments: 21
Kudos: 457





	Stitches

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to the first fic in my one shot series of times peter gets hurt/sick bc we all love whump and why tf not?

“Ow, damnit,” Peter muttered as he walked into the coffee table that was in the middle of the room – in the exact place it always lived and yet still, his shins were paying the price of its existence, “as if I wasn’t already injured enough.”

_“Hello, Peter, it is 2am and you’re past your curfew, would you like me to alert Mr. Stark to your arrival?”_ F.R.I.D.A.Y. asked.

“What? No!” Peter said in a whispered exclamation, why would he ever want that?

_“Alright, would you like me to alert Miss Potts?”_ F.R.I.D.A.Y. asked.

“No, no, no,” Peter said quickly, making his way out of the living room and down the corridor, “no alerting anyone, I’m just here for a few minutes.”

_“As you wish.”_

“Thanks,” Peter whispered, as F.R.I.D.A.Y. fell silent but chose to brighten the room enough so that Peter could see where he was going, “I owe you one F.R.I.”

Peter limped his way as silently as possible through the over-sized kitchen towards the cupboard under the sink where he knew Mr. Stark kept a spare first aid kit – or rather, where Miss Potts made him keep one. 

He awkwardly perched himself on one of the breakfast stools and cracked the small green box open as he looked for something very specific that he couldn’t seem to find.

“Uh, F.R.I.?” He asked quietly.

_“Yes, Peter?”_

“Where’s the needle and thread?” Peter asked, looking for something similar to that which May would use to repair the holes in his clothes after he was a little too careless.

_“There is no needle and thread, there is however a suture kit in there which is sterile and designed to close wounds like the one you appear to have.”_ F.R.I.D.A.Y. informed him.

A suture kit? Peter had never used one of them before, he wouldn’t even know where to start. Wasn’t that something that surgeons used during operations? Or doctors used to close minor wounds? Why would he need something that fancy? He just needed a standard sewing needle. He wasn’t fussy.

“Are you sure there isn’t just a regular sewing needle somewhere?” Peter asked.

_“It would be negligent of me to help you to find one, you are best to use that kit.”_

“Thanks, I guess.” Peter muttered.

_“You are welcome.”_ F.R.I.D.A.Y. said, not understanding his sarcasm.

Peter pulled out the suture kit and carefully opened it, there was a strange needle, was it even a needle? It looked more like a metal toenail clipping. The thread wasn’t exactly what he had imagined either, and there was some strange metal things that kind of looked like scissors, but they weren’t scissors.

“Uh, F.R.I.? Do you have a YouTube tutorial or something?” Peter asked as he slapped his palm against the spider on his chest and felt the suit loosen around him.

_“I have many videos on the proper suture technique, I would recommend a teaching session from Harvard University if you would like?”_ F.R.I.D.A.Y. said.

“Uh, do you have anything a little easier to follow?” Peter wondered. “I’m not much of a medic.”

_“Would you like me to search other Medical School databases?”_

“Um, no, I just need something easy.” Peter said. “Are you sure there’s nothing on YouTube?”

_“I can search, give me three minutes to filter the useful videos.”_

“Thanks, F.R.I.,” Peter said with a relieved smile, “I just don’t know much about medicine and I’m a little out of my depth here.”

“That much is clear.” A voice said, making Peter freeze in his seat. _Shit._

Peter bit his lip and slowly turned to see Mr. Stark standing in the doorway, his hair dishevelled from sleep, “uh, hey Mr. Stark! How’s it going?” He asked with faux brightness.

“Kid, it’s two in the morning.” Mr. Stark said.

“Yeah, and I have to say that it’s great to see that you’re starting to sleep at a normal hour, like seriously I love that for you. Makes you think though, doesn’t it? Are we switching ourselves about, maybe you could do my homework too? That would be-”

“Stop.” Mr. Stark said, silencing Peter almost immediately. “Kid, why the hell am I finding you sitting in your underwear at my kitchen island with a suture kit?”

“I- uh, I guess it’s just an accident?” Peter said.

“An accident?” Mr. Stark asked, raising a brow. “An accident that you’re here or an accident that you got caught?”

“I don’t know.” Peter admitted.

“Honesty, Underoos, give me the truth now.”

“I got sliced.” Peter admitted.

“Sliced?”

“With a knife.”

“You were stabbed.” Mr. Stark stated, instantly moving forward to look at the wound that Peter was shielding with his hand.

“Not stabbed, there was no stabby motion, it was a slice.” Peter reiterated. “Definitely a slice.”

“I’m not convinced Kiddo,” Mr. Stark said, “let me see, move your hands.”

Peter reluctantly lifted his hands to reveal the gash on his legs.

“You wanted a sewing needle?” Mr. Stark asked, looking at him like he was insane for considering such a thing.

“It’s what I used last time,” Peter admitted, “I don’t know how to use this curved thingy.”

“Alright.” Mr. Stark said with a weary sigh. “Hop up onto the island, let me have a look. F.R.I.D.A.Y. brighten the lights.”

“Really?” Peter asked, not wanting to appear too hopeful.

“Did you really stitch yourself up with a sewing needle before?” Mr. Stark asked as he washed his hands at the kitchen sink.

“I had to,” Peter said, as he hauled himself up onto the counter next to the stool, “there was no one else to do it for me and at the time Spider-Man was my secret.”

“Spider-Man is still your secret.” Mr. Stark told him as he dried his hands and pulled out a pair of sterile gloves from the first aid kit.

“Yeah, but now you know about him, so does Ned and May and a few others,” Peter said, hissing in pain as Tony poured some saline over the wound and started to clean the area with some gauze, “now I have people I can go to if I need to.”

“And yet you were still sitting here in the dark, planning to stitch yourself up.” Mr. Stark muttered.

“You were sleeping.” Peter said quietly.

“Kid, I don’t care if I’m in a meeting with the most important person in the world, if you need me then you need me.” Mr. Stark told him.

“I know, I just thought I could manage.” Peter whispered, feeling his cheeks flush red.

“Just because you can doesn’t mean you should have to.”

“You really don’t mind?” Peter asked.

“I wouldn’t let you bleed all over my kitchen island if I did.” Mr. Stark said gently, and Peter couldn’t hold in a whimper as the needle pierced his skin. “That’s it, deep breaths kiddo, I’ll be as quick as I can be.”

“Wait that’s not stitching,” Peter said, “what was that?”

“Just a local anaesthetic.” Mr. Stark said. “Didn’t you use it when you- ah right, sewing needle. I doubt you would have had anything like this.”

“I heal quickly,” Peter explained, feeling like he was expected to explain himself, “it seemed like a waste of money to get anaesthetic just to stitch myself up and then heal within a few hours.”

“That’s all it would take?” Mr. Stark wondered.

“With the help of the stitches.” Peter said, confirming his words. “Without the stitches it could take up to a day, maybe two.”

“Well then, I would say this is definitely worth it, if it helps that much.” Mr. Stark decided.

Peter watched with rapt attention as Mr. Stark began to stitch, it was strange to watch the needle drag through his skin and not feel the associated pain, instead he was met with a mildly uncomfortable tugging feeling as Mr. Stark expertly used the strange not-scissors and toenail shaped needle to pull the edges of Peter’s wound together.

“You’re good at this.” Peter said quietly.

“Someone has to be in this place, back when the team was the team, we’d all fix each other’s wounds and now I fix my own.” Mr. Stark said. “Pepper isn’t too bad at stitching, but she hates doing it.”

“Hey!” Peter protested. “If you stitch your own wounds then I should be able to do mine.”

“Except you have no idea how to use the equipment,” Mr. Stark said with an eyeroll, “trust me kiddo, accept the help while you can, there is absolutely no shame in it.”

“I guess.” Peter mumbled.

Peter watched his mentor slowly continue to suture the wound shut and had to fight back a yawn as the time started to catch up with him.

“How many times?” Mr. Stark asked after a few moments

“Huh?”

“How many times did you stitch yourself up?”

“Oh,” Peter said, “uh, maybe three or four? I think. Not too many times, I got surprisingly good at dodging the knives and bullets.”

“One time would be too many.” Mr. Stark muttered under his breath, before sighing.

Peter remembered those nights, when he had limped home feeling scared and in pain after a fight had gone wrong. He had still been new to the Spider-Man deal and he had no idea how to fight, especially not against some of the criminals who were out there fighting on a regular basis.

His first knife wound had been the worst. Not in terms of severity, but it had left Peter completely shaken as he ran home, cradling his forearm, with tears streaked down his face beneath the mask.

“So, what happened tonight?” Mr. Stark asked, pulling Peter from his thoughts.

It was Peter’s turn to sigh, “I got into a fight with May last night, and I just didn’t want to go home and face the music with an injury, so I came here instead to fix it up before going back.”

“So, staying out after your curfew was what? You being a rebellious teen because of a fight with your Aunt?” Mr. Stark asked raising an eyebrow at him.

“I’m sorry.” Peter said earnestly, he really had acted like a dumb kid and the argument hadn’t been _that_ bad.

“I don’t think I’m the one you need to apologise to,” Mr. Stark said, “but that can wait until morning. Why don’t you head to bed and I’ll call May and let her know you’re safe?”

“Really?” Peter asked hopefully. “Wait. You’re not going to make me tell you about the argument?”

“Do you want to?” Mr. Stark asked.

Peter shook his head immediately, “no, I just want to go to bed.”

“Yeah, I thought so, I think you’ve been punished enough for one night.” Mr. Stark told him.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” Peter rambled as he hopped off the counter, stumbling slightly as he remembered the pain of the wound.

“Yeah, yeah, you owe me one, Kiddo!” Mr. Stark told him. “Now watch that leg, I don’t want to hear that you ripped a stitch.”

“I do, and don’t worry, these stitches won’t be needed for long,” Peter said as he hobbled towards the door, another thought struck him and he paused, hand resting on the doorknob, “wait, how did you know I was here?” 

“F.R.I.D.A.Y.” Mr. Stark said, as though it should have been obvious.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y.?” Peter frowned. “But… I told her not to wake you?”

“Really, Underoos?” Mr. Stark asked looking unimpressed. “Do you really think I would create a whole protocol to be alerted when you arrived in the tower injured, only for it to be overridden by _you?_ ”

“Offensive.” Peter muttered.

“Nah, Kid, you don’t typically have your own best interests in mind,” Mr. Stark reminded him, “you’re the one who forgot to tell me about the time you were _hit by a car_ remember?”

“This is slander and I’m not here for it,” Peter decided, “I’m going to bed.”

“Yeah, you do that, I’m gonna call your Aunt and suffer the consequences of your actions.”

“Sorry!” Peter shouted, not feeling sorry enough to volunteer to take Mr. Stark’s place.

As he wandered down the corridor, leg pounding in pain, he managed to pick up the sound of May saying, “Tony? What did he do?” 

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed!! Please check out some of my other fics if you liked this one! and maybe check out my tumblr @[ephemeralstark](https://ephemeralstark.tumblr.com/)
> 
> I appreciate every kudos/comment/bookmark!! You guys make my life!! Thank you! <3


End file.
